


Little Moments

by FrozenMemories



Series: The 100 Post Canon Happy Fics [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Post canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories
Summary: A random collection of post canon moments that can be read as standalones.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Eric Jackson, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Eric Jackson & Emori, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake/Levitt, Octavia Blake/Niylah
Series: The 100 Post Canon Happy Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954072
Comments: 29
Kudos: 32





	1. Mackson

It's been a week since they've 'descended', choosing life over the wonders of eternity spent on a spiritual new plane of existence.

They're still coming to terms with what it truly means to be the last of their kind, even though half of them were raised with exactly that belief in mind. It still feels different.

The peace and quiet of their new surroundings, their little newfound family, makes it easier to adapt but there is still the prospect of never having children, of knowing they will live to see the definite end of mankind - they _are_ the definite end.

But strangely, they all seem happy with it. There are no grudges held between any of them. They all work hand in hand to ensure their survival with the most possible comfort. Yes, they are safe and in good health, but the issues of water, shelter and food still pose a struggle in this place.

Save for Levitt and Jordan they are all experienced in this kind of a life though and they're quick to arrange supplies and an efficient distribution of various tasks. And despite the hard labor they do manage to find time to savor what they have here: A beautiful view and the people they care about safely by their sides.

Nathan is on fire watch, piling more wood around the flames before he reclines back into a comfortable position that lets him overlook the rest of their camp.

He smiles when Jackson catches his eyes across the distance where he's just finished reeling in the fishing rod they used earlier to acquire their dinner.

"Hey," he says softly, once he's within hearing distance. Nate spreads his arms in an inviting gesture and smiles up at him.

"Hey."

Jackson nestles into his side with a soft kiss to his cheek. He slips an arm around Nate's neck to pillow his head while the other comes to rest across Nate's chest.

In turn, Nathan wraps his arm around Jackson's middle, his hand sprawled over his hip.

He smiles up at Jackson brightly, the wondrous disbelief at their situation gradually waning with each passing day.

He cradles Jackson's cheek with his free hand, gently tugging him down for a proper kiss.

They have their eyes closed, the world fading away at the sensation of soft lips and playful tongues teasing at each other. There is only them and the warm flicker of the campfire by their sides.

Jackson lets his hand slide away from Nate's chest and move to the hem of his shirt instead, probingly crawling beneath the fabric.

Nathan hums into his mouth and lets his own hand slip into the back pocket of Jackson's jeans, where his fingers squeeze the firm muscles of his ass.

Jackson grins into their kiss and starts squinting down at him in the orange tint of the dancing flames.

"Nate," he warns quietly, but subtly grinds his hips against Nathan's side regardless.

"Jacks?" Nate replies innocently, a whisper against wet lips.

And then they're kissing again, slowly and without ulterior intent, simply losing themselves in the moment.

The loud crack of footsteps brings them back to the present.

"Go, get a room," a voice booms and Nathan rolls his eyes behind his lids before he opens them.

"There are no rooms here, Murphy," he answers dryly.

"Get a tent then," Murphy shoots back with a grin. There's no animosity in his voice, instead the three regard each other with unprecedented fondness.

"Look who's talking," Jackson quips, referring to an infinite number of occasions where Murphy and Emori have been more than a little wrapped up in each other. In fact, if Emori wasn't so engrossed in conversation with Raven right now he'd surely be attached to her side, whispering dirty thoughts into her ear.

And Murphy knows that. He relents with an amused shrug and walks over to where Emori and Raven make a big show of appearing annoyed by his arrival.

Nate and Jackson share small grins at the display that soon fade into dreamy smiles.

"We're not that bad, are we?" Jackson muses aloud. Beneath him Nate is still thinking about his reply when somewhere beside them Octavia's voice pipes up.

"You are that bad," she informs them dryly, but when Nathan glances at her he can see her lips quirk into a smirk, "But hey, you deserve it."


	2. Jackson & Emori

Jackson still doesn't fully comprehend what happened. He has memories of a strange kind of warmth engulfing him. Nate's face, awed and confused. 

And then he was surrounded by beautiful lights and sounds.

Abby. He can't recall the specifics of their conversation, only that Abby was there, facing him with a choice. He remembers asking for Nate. He remembers an inexplicable connection, hearing and feeling presences and voices, conversing without talk but somehow coming to a common agreement. 

And then he was back here, a cobbled beach, green woods and the unmistakable scent of Earth.

For a moment he thought he was alone, until there was a voice behind him, gently calling out his name.

Sinking into Nate's embrace they've remained still, minds reeling, for a very long time.

But there are other voices, too, that make them slowly separate.

He is pulled away from Nate into the arms of Niylah and hugs her close to him immediately, relief flooding his entire being. They look each other over for a moment, making sure the other is unharmed and then turn to see who else is with them.

His heart almost stops when he see her.

"Emori? I... how?" he stutters, knees close to giving in, "You... you died."

She graces him with her brilliant smile. 

"I'm here."

She's let go of Murphy's hand and steps closer to him, placing both hands on either of his arms.

"I..." Jackson finds himself speechless. Over her shoulder he sees Murphy, an unreadable expression on his face. He can't bear to look at him.

"It's okay, Jacks," Emori assures him and, sensing his distress, reaches up to pull him into a tight embrace. 

Tears fall from his eyes, the memory of Emori's flatline, the blood spewing from her mouth, Murphy's desperate pleas still sharp in his mind.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you," he all but sobs into her hair.

Pulling back Emori looks up at him, her eyes just as red rimmed as his.

"You did," she says firmly, her smile watery but sure.

"It's alright, Jackson. We're all here, that's the only thing that matters."

He nods, wanting nothing more than to believe in her words and draw comfort from them. Wiping at his eyes the blur of his surroundings clears a little. Emori's face is bright and colorful, no remnants of the ashen features and stiffness of her deceased body. 

He raises his hand to her cheek, halting in motion to ask permission with a raised brow. She nods and he touches her warm face, a relieved huff escaping his lips.

"I'm so sorry," he repeats quietly. Emori shakes her head and hugs him again. And then he feels another pair of arms around them. 

"It's alright, Jacks," Murphy offers, sounding a little choked up himself, "We're all here now."


	3. Mackson

Miller sits on one of the crates they've built to store their supplies in. He has one foot tucked up beneath his leg, the other dangling over the edge. His expression is stern, a thousand thoughts jumbling around his head as he stares off into the distance.

"What's on your mind, baby?" Jackson approaches him with a soft, worried smile.

"You?" Miller quickly forces the corners of his mouth upward. He can't keep pulling Jackson down with these moods when his partner has seemed so happy and carefree recently. Jackson truly believes this is their happy ending. If only he could believe it, too.

"That's a given," Jackson grins goodnaturedly, but there's still an edge of concern in his voice, "What else?"

Involuntarily, Miller sighs.

"It's beautiful here," he muses.

"U-huh," Jackson agrees, waiting for the _but_ , no doubt.

Miller takes a deep breath, sorting his thoughts.

"It just seems so pointless sometimes. Knowing we're the end of humanity. That we have nothing to leave behind, to pass on." He shakes his head, "Or, rather nobody to pass it on to."

They're both silently processing his words for a beat or two.

"Yeah..." Jackson breathes and looks down with a thoughtful expression.

"Everything we've been through, every lesson we've learned, every sacrifice we've made and for what? We'll never get to teach our children," he pauses and puffs out a frustrated breath.

Jackson reaches out to touch his chin, gently beckoning him to make eye-contact.

"You wanted a little baby Nate?"

He sounds surprised, but understanding.

Miller shrugs.

"Or maybe a baby Jackson?" He suggests, unable to hide a weak grin at the thought.

"Now, why would you want that?" Jackson asks, and it is one of those rare occasions where Miller can't tell if he's trying to cheer him up with a joke or genuinely means it.

"C'mon. That would be adorable," he says, cradling Jackson's face in his hands to underline that he is taking the conversation serious - just in case.

Jackson hums thoughtfully.

"And what about the others?" Miller continues, "Maybe they would have wanted... I don't know. It's just cruel that they took that choice from us, you know?"

"Yes. It is," Jackson agrees. "But look, we have this."

He tips his head forward and catches Miller's lips in a tender kiss.

"This is nice," Miller mumbles into the soft, familiar touch.

"Hm," is all Jackson has to offer in return. He smiles against Miller's lips again and presses more firmly onto them.

Miller's expression softens just marginally when they pull apart.

"I'm sorry," he mutters quietly, "I suppose I should be grateful, but I just... I can't. Fourteen people, Jacks. And that's that."

Jackson leans his forehead to Miller's and takes a deep breath.

"I know baby," he offers helplessly. All he can do is be there for him. To listen to and hold him. So that is what he does.

"I guess we can only try to make the best of it for now," he muses, while he wraps his arms protectively around Miller's body.

Miller nods.

"I am grateful for this, you know that right? You and me."

He does know but it's nice to hear the words.

"Me too," he murmurs into Miller's cheek.

Sounds of laughter reach them from a distance, breaking into their private little moment.

Pulling back Jackson takes his partner's hand and squeezes it.

"Hey, wanna go for a swim?"

The suggestion brings a smile to Miller's face.

"You hate swimming," he points out.

Jackson grins widely.

"C'mon."

With a fond shake of his head Miller allows Jackson to pull him by the hand toward the edge of the lake. The laughter rings louder as they near the water; Jordan and Hope are splashing each other relentlessly while Picasso is jumping excitedly between them.

On a blanket nearby Emori is lying on top of Murphy, drawing patterns on his face with her fingers.

Indra and Niylah appear to be in a deep conversation but as they pass by the pair Niylah looks up at them with a smile.

They're quick to pull their shirts and pants off, carelessly dropping them as they go. And then Miller makes a grab for Jackson's hand again and smiles, too. Maybe life is pointless after all, but maybe the point is just exactly this: to _live_ it.


	4. Mackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [Little Conversation, Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880475/chapters/65594164#workskin)

"Jacks, hey, wait up," Miller reaches for Jackson’s hand and pulls him a step or two backwards, their bodies colliding with the sudden move.

"Whoa, hey," Jackson exclaims softly, the air punched from his chest.

Miller grins and wraps his arms around Jackson's waist, hands grasping at the material of his jacket.

"Sorry," he mutters, making sure to look anything but.

Before Jackson has a chance to question his antics, Miller leans up and presses their lips together in a kiss Jackson instinctively yields to.

When he feels a smile forming against his mouth he knows his plan is on the fast track to success. He grabs and tugs at Jackson's middle, his feet taking a few backward steps until his back hits a tree. Jackson lets himself be guided and soon he has Miller crowded into the thick trunk.

"Nate?"

It's not really a question, Jackson knows exactly what his partner is thinking, but he does sound just a little surprised.

"We're supposed to mark trees to log," he reminds him in weak protest.

"Gotta make sure the trees we choose are built solid," Miller deadpans smugly, dragging Jackson along until he slumps into him with his full weight.

Jackson chuckles and plays along - he never needs a lot of incentive. Standing firmly between Miller's slightly parted legs he presses himself flush against his body. Hands coming up to cradle Miller's face, he leans in slowly and starts kisses him thoroughly.

Miller’s hands slide down over the curve of Jackson’s ass, a low moan rumbling through his chest as he squeezes at the firm muscles.

It feels so good to finally be able to let their guards down completely, to just live in the moment and enjoy each other’s company uninterrup-, “Wow, you really are as bad as Octavia claims you are.”

Levitt. He has no idea how the guy managed to find them in the woods so quickly – not that they were hiding, not that they’re doing anything indecent (yet).

They part, regardless.

“Levitt, how nice of you to join us,” Miller makes sure to let sarcasm drip from his voice, even though Levitt hasn’t been very good at apprehending it, so far. With Miller, Raven and Murphy around he’s sure going to have some catching up to do, though.

“Raven sent us to help you,” Levitt offers innocently.

“Us?” While Jackson trains his eyes down and blushes an adorable shade of pink, Miller turns his head to look over Levitt’s shoulder.

“They don’t look like they need help here, Levitt. Come, let me teach you about these woods.”

There’s a rare smirk playing across Indra’s lips and Miller can’t help feeling like he just got caught making out by his mom.

“We’ll uh... be right there,” he calls after their retreating backs. Jackson buries his face in the crook of Miller’s neck.

“Take your time,” Indra calls back with a teasing lilt.

Jackson groans and Miller starts chuckling. His face feels a little warmer that it did moments before, although the heat from their previous actions has faded.

“You think they’re gonna rat us out to Raven?” Jackson asks as he straightens up and smoothes his clothes out. Miller grins and reels him in for a quick kiss.

“Oh, definitely,” he says but doesn’t care one bit.


	5. Jackson & Clarke

"Hey Jackson," Clarke breaks their companionable silence after a good five minutes of washing and peeling roots in preparation for dinner.

Jackson places another one in the kettle and looks up at her.

"I haven't thanked you yet, for coming back for me and all of this." She's gesturing vaguely around, the small blade in her hand catching in the late afternoon sun.

Jackson smiles and puts a hand down on her knee.

"We didn't do this for you," he says before realizing how his choice of words might be perceived. "I'm sorry, that came off wrong," he immediately apologizes.

"What I mean is you don't have to thank us. We came back because we wanted to, this isn't some sort of sacrifice we made for your sake."

She nods, contemplating his words, so he continues, "I'm glad we're all here. I'm also very glad you're here in case I didn't make that clear."

He has a lot of regrets about the past couple of years, but he's also made the right decisions if they led him to peace and the quiet happiness he thinks he's going to find within their small group.

"We haven't been as close as we used to be," Clarke muses, hands picking up their task again. Jackson instinctively thinks about dinners spent with the Griffins back on the Ark. Thinks about monitoring Clarke's vitals on the big screen when she was first sent to Earth. Swallowing his own concerns for the sake of calming Abby.

He thinks about Clarke's journey, so different from his own, yet linked so closely, and not just through her mother.

"We can be again," he offers, hope and sorrow and longing mingling inside of him and tugging at his heart.

Clarke smiles and puts her tools down.

"I'd like that," she says softly and leans closer to Jackson until she can wrap an arm loosely around his neck.

“You know, Abby would love seeing us like this. She always wanted us to reconnect.” He doesn’t know what just possessed him to say those words aloud, but somehow he couldn’t keep them locked inside. Clarke palpably tenses at the mention of her mother, the loss still painfully present, and Jackson wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. But then Clarke pulls back and smiles at him again.

“She did,” she agrees somberly.

He should probably leave it at that but the professional in him wants to dig deeper into the layers of Clarke’s closed off emotions. Or maybe it’s the concerned friend in him who does. Either way, he takes a deep breath and voices another thought.

“I’ve often wondered how different things would have been with you in the bunker. Losing you was what broke her.”

Clarke’s smile fades into a contemplative frown.

“I tried.”

“I know.”

Pensive silence falls between them, Jackson’s thoughts flashing back to the day they found the exit wouldn’t open and there was no way of knowing they would ever make it out, even after five long years.

“I’m glad she had you down there.” Clarke’s voice reels him back into the conversation. He swallows.

“I tried to be there for her, you know? But it wasn’t enough. Kane wasn’t enough. We couldn’t save her.” Tears well up at the memory of how withdrawn and mechanical Abby had become over the years. His voice cracks as he continues, “I tried, I tried so hard.”

Clarke lets a tear slip down her cheek as she looks him in the eyes.

“I know, Jackson. I know you did.”

It’s astonishing how much the teenage girl he used to know has grown up, and no matter how disconnected he’s felt from her in recent years, Jackson can’t help but feel a sense of brotherly pride for her.

He reaches for her hand and wraps his fingers tightly around hers, relieved when she leans into the touch until their shoulders bump together. Dinner prep is momentarily forgotten as they continue to simply sit like that.

Yes, Jackson thinks, Abby surely would have loved seeing them like this.


	6. Mackson, Miller & Octavia

“Nice shiner, Nate. Do you need medical attention for that?”

Jackson’s tone is playful but his eyes scan the swollen tissue around Miller’s left eye with concern.

“Nah, thanks. I prefer to lick my own wounds,” Miller mutters dismissively and pushes past him.

“Or I could lick them for you?” Jackson offers with a hint of a growl in his voice, hoping a change of strategy will appease his hard-faced partner. And indeed, Miller’s expression softens to a playful smirk as he turns his head for their eyes to meet.

“That doesn’t sound very professional, Dr. Jackson.”

Jackson grins.

“Who cares as long as it’s effective?”

In a few strides Miller is by his side and clamps a heavy hand down on his shoulder.

“Seriously though, that looks painful,” Jackson states upon closer inspection, back to doctor mode in seconds, fingers gently tapping around the swelling bruise.

“O kicked my ass for real,” Miller says with a shrug.

“You shouldn’t-,” Jackson begins to protest – he’s disapproved of the sparring sessions between the two for a while now, as they tend to overstep the lines a lot. This isn’t the first injury Miller’s come home with.

But Miller once again is quick to cut him off, “No, I needed that. We’re good. We talked.”

With a sigh Jackson relents. He places his hand purposefully against the back of Miller’s neck and gives his black eye a final once-over, then pulls him closer with a shake of his head. Mindful of the tender skin he presses a tentative kiss to the edge of it.

“Care to fill me in?”

They sit down together on the sun-warmed stones in front of their makeshift shed and Jackson patiently waits for Miller to draw a deep breath and collect his thoughts before he shares them.


	7. Niytavia, Levtavia

“So, Levitt, huh?”

Niylah nudges Octavia’s knee with her own, as they sit beside each other by the fire.

Octavia chews on her lip. “I... I'm…,” she pauses, sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I don't know.”

To see Octavia so hesitant is almost unsettling. Niylah has never known her to be anything but fierce and striving with confidence. Even in her darkest moments inside the bunker, when she questioned the brutal nature of her reign, she still firmly believed in her cause. In herself.

“A lot has happened,” Octavia offers pensively. 

Niylah is reminded once again of how much time has passed between them. And how much change has come with that.

“It’s been a decade for you,” she states, her mind still trying to catch up with the concept of time dilation. To her it has only been weeks, but Octavia has lived an entirely different life in her absence. And still, she doesn’t look a day older.

Lost in her own thoughts, Octavia nods by way of a reply. She continues to stare into the dancing flames, a faraway look in her eyes, but Niylah can tell from the way her jaw clenches, that Octavia’s mind is right there with her.

“You're older than me now,” she observes, trying to lighten the mood. And if Octavia’s sudden smile is any indicator, it seems to work.

“And wiser, perhaps?” Niylah nudges her knee once again.

“I don't think I'll ever be wiser or smarter than you,” Octavia says with a small chuckle and lifts her head to spare a glance for her friend.

Niylah scoffs good-naturedly and gently smacks Octavia’s thigh. She’s not quite sure their relationship has reached the point of comfortable teasing yet, but her hand has slipped before she could stop it. She recoils as soon as Octavia’s expression turns tense and Niylah silently scolds herself.

But then Octavia speaks up in a voice, barely louder than a whisper, “I've missed you, on Skyring.” Niylah tries to hold her breath as she watches Octavia, careful not to disturb her quiet confession. “I kept telling myself I was trying to go back for Bellamy but I... So much happened between us and all this time I found myself wishing I could find a way to apologize to you.” 

She shakes her head before she continues, “And now you're here and I don't have the words.” 

Niylah dares to reach a hand out, covering Octavia’s where it rests upon her thigh.

“Words are overrated,” she ventures with a smile that Octavia returns.

Though when she resumes her speech it’s directed to the fire once more.

“I moved on, I had to…” There is much more to her words than the simple statement, Niylah can feel it heavy in the air between them.

“I know,” is all she says.

Tentatively, she lifts her arm and when she meets no resistance, drapes it across the other woman’s shoulders to pull her near. Octavia leans into the touch and Niylah can’t help herself - she places a kiss on top of Octavia’s head, and it feels as familiar as ever.

The words she wants to say weigh heavy, and her throat feels too dry to let them pass. But she tries.

“I’ve always wanted for you to be happy. I’ve known all along I could never be for you what I wanted to be. What I longed to be.” Niylah takes a deep breath. She feels lighter now that the confession is out in the open. She expects no answer, nor absolution. 

Certainly, she doesn’t expect Octavia’s quiet reply.

“You were.”


End file.
